At 45, my mom finally found love again, and I wanted to be happy for her. But when I met her new fiancé, something felt off. I couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling in my gut. The more I looked into him, the more convinced I became—I had to stop this before it was too late.

When parents get divorced, most children suffer because of it. But when mine did, I was happy. I still loved both my mom and dad, but seeing them as husband and wife was awful.

They were like two strangers who had been forced to live under the same roof. So when they finally split, it was a relief more than anything.

As I grew older, I started encouraging my mom to find a new husband. She often complained about feeling lonely, especially in the evenings when the house felt too quiet.

I knew she needed companionship, someone to share meals with, to talk to after a long day.

I couldn’t always be around—I had my own life, my own struggles. I even set up a dating app for her, scrolling through profiles and trying to find someone who seemed like a good match. But no one ever seemed to catch her interest.

So when one day she called, her voice bright with excitement, and told me she wanted me to meet her new boyfriend, I was thrilled for her.

I imagined a kind, steady man, someone who would make her laugh and treat her well. But as it turned out, my excitement was in vain.

To introduce us, my mom invited me over for dinner. I planned my approach carefully, even listing out questions in my head.

I smirked, remembering how she used to grill my boyfriends when I was a teenager. Now, it was my turn.

I picked up a bottle of wine on my way—a small luxury, considering my tight budget.

That one bottle meant I’d be eating instant noodles for the next week. I was struggling at work and trying to save up for my dream business— a restaurant, but I wanted to make a good impression.

When I reached her house, I hesitated at the door, my legs trembling slightly. Why was I nervous?

I was not the one being tested. If anyone should be worried, it was Aaron. After all, he was about to face an overprotective daughter.

I rang the doorbell. My fingers felt stiff against the button. A moment later, the door flew open.

“Casey! Finally, you’re here!” My mom’s voice bubbled with excitement. “We’ve been waiting!” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was just about to call you, and then the doorbell rang!”

She reached for my arm, but I gently held her shoulders instead. “Mom, why are you so nervous?” I asked.

I smirked. “I doubt you want me to like him that much.”

“Okay, fair enough,” she chuckled. Then her face turned serious. “But I really want you to accept him.”

I gave her a small nod. “I’m sure everything will be fine. You chose him, so how can I not support you?”

Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re right.” She smiled and slipped her arm through mine. “Come on.”

We walked into the dining room together. The moment I stepped in, my stomach twisted.

A man about my age stood near the table. He had dark hair, a neat beard, and a confident stance.

I frowned. “You didn’t tell me Aaron had a son,” I whispered.

Mom gave me a confused look. “No, Casey. This is Aaron.”

My head snapped toward her. My mom kept smiling as if this was completely normal.

She glanced between me and him, waiting for a reaction. But I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, frozen.

Aaron stepped forward, extending his hand. “Nice to finally meet you. I had to convince Sandra for so long to set this up.”

His voice was steady, polite. But I wasn’t polite. I wasn’t steady. Something inside me snapped.

“Are you kidding me?!” My voice came out loud. “Is this some kind of joke?!”

“Casey, this is not a joke,” Mom said. “Aaron and I are dating,” she added.

I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Dating?! He’s my age! You could easily be his mother!”

“Almost your age,” she corrected. “Aaron is 25, two years older than you.”

“What is wrong with you?” My voice was harsh. “How did it even cross your mind to date someone so young?”

Mom’s face softened. “I understand your reaction. At first, I didn’t let myself acknowledge my feelings for Aaron either.” She took a small step closer. “But Casey, I’ve never felt this kind of connection with anyone else. I’ve never been this happy.”

I scoffed. “What kind of connection? Like a mother and son?”

Aaron cleared his throat. “Please, let’s all calm down and talk.”

I turned on him. “And you!” My voice was sharp. “Why are you with her? Is it for the money?”

Mom gasped. “Casey!” I ignored her.

Aaron took a slow breath. “I’m not with your mom for money.”

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered.

Mom’s face turned red. “You said you’d support my choice!”

“I didn’t know your choice was 25 years old!” My hands clenched into fists. “You two need to break up!”

Mom’s lips pressed together. “We’re not breaking up!” Her voice rose. “Aaron proposed to me, and we’re getting married in two months!”

I blinked.

“What?” My throat felt dry.

“We’re getting married,” she repeated.

I shook my head. “You really want him to take everything you have?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened. “Casey, I assure you, I don’t care about your mom’s money. I love her.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, sure, like I’d believe that.”

Mom exhaled, looking tired. “I’m done with all this yelling. Either you calm down and join us for dinner, or you can leave.”

“Great!” I shouted. “If a random boy is more important to you than your own daughter, then I’m leaving!”

I turned and stomped toward the door.

“Casey!” Mom yelled after me. “Aaron is not a boy! He’s a grown man!”

For days after that evening, I struggled to come to terms with the fact that my mom was engaged to someone my age.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make sense of it. Every time I pictured them together, something inside me twisted. It felt unnatural.

I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, replaying their announcement in my head.

My mother had always been responsible, cautious, and wise. How could she not see what I saw? There was no way Aaron truly loved her. He had to be after something.

I considered every possible way to stop the wedding.

Confronting Mom again wouldn’t work. She had made up her mind. Begging her? Useless. She was stubborn. That left one option—I needed proof. I had to be smarter.